


Scars

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: M/M, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:39:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chester is tired of hurting on the inside, he thinks it's time he let it show</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

“I think we…this has all gone far enough, don’t you think?”

No. He doesn’t think. After all, it was Brad who started this all those years ago. With his I’m cold, and violent shivers that only ever seemed to stop when they made love. Touring got like that, though, for all of them. So maybe it wasn’t I love you so much as it was You’re the closest and I’m lonely.

So he doesn’t reply, simply stares passively just over the fidgeting guitarist’s shoulder.

“Please say something, Chaz.”

“Chester,” he says, “My name is Chester.”

“Okay.”

Chester shrugs and relaxes back in his seat, somewhat drunk on power. He hurts more than he thinks he ever has, but he always knew Brad wouldn’t fight for him if he had to. He should have seen this coming. But watching him squirm uncomfortably is oh so much fun.

“What are you thinking?” Brad asks, picking his fingers.

“I’m thinking that you’re one of the most belligerent people I’ve ever met.”

He thinks of fights about nothing what-so-ever. Arguments about the weather, or who didn’t call who.

“I’m thinking that you don’t believe this has all gone far enough, because you couldn’t hit an issue head on if it saved your life.”

He thinks about Elisa waiting up for him and staring at his dishevelled appearance and sighing, is there someone else?

“I’m thinking you had to tell her. And you made out like we were just comforting each other or some shit. She sent you here.”

He thinks about the expression on her face when he doesn’t lie. When he tells her that it’s his best friend.

Brad sighs, “Chaz –”

“It’s Chester. And I think you should leave.”

He shows him the door and Brad reaches up, a hand on its way to stroke Chester’s face. The singer grabs his wrist and pushes it away. “Go home, Brad,” he says, and slams the door.

***

He cuts himself.

They’re at the Grammy’s, and Brad stares at the jagged wounds on his arms with an expression which Chester can’t decipher.

“You…those are pretty bad Cha-” Stops himself, “Chester.”

“Yeah,” He says, tugging his sleeves down around his hands, “I guess they are.”

Meets Brad’s eyes until Elisa looks over, and he can’t anymore.

***

Brad is pacing. Angrily and rhythmically on the floor of the hospital room. His sneakers squeak on the linoleum and Chester wants to tell him to stand the fuck still, already.

They don’t know he’s awake.

“He could have bled to death,” Brad is saying, “Is this all a ploy to make me feel guilty? Because I already feel guilty enough, thanks.”

“Brad, calm down.”

“No, Mike, I won’t fucking calm down. He. Could. Have. Died. And what for? Some attention and some scars he’ll have to get tattooed over?”

“I don’t think it’s attention he wants, Brad. Now sit down.”

Mike has the right idea.

After another interview where he and Brad laughed and played the fool and then went their separate ways with big fake smiles, Chester had gone home and broken open a fresh razor.

This isn’t about attention.

He turns his head towards where Brad has now taken a seat and opens his eyes, blinking slowly, “I’m not attention seeking, asshole,” he croaks.

Brad says nothing for a long time, giving Chester a moment to inspect his bandaged arms. He’ll have one hell of a scar, that he knows. And Brad’s right – he’ll have to get it tattooed over.

“Then what is it?” Brad asks.

“What’s the point,” Chester says, “Of hurting on the inside? It should fucking well show.”

There’s nothing but a dull ache, and everything he looks at is fuzzy and out of focus so he guess he’s drugged. Which makes everything a lot easier to deal with.

“You don’t love somebody on the inside. You show them.” He says.

And Brad goes red, stares at his feet.

“Don’t think this is all about you though.” Chester murmurs. And doesn’t explain.

And the room falls into silence.


End file.
